Today was a big day that started with Magnus's soccer game at 8.30. Gus (and Mom) worked on his "Cereal Box" project for school. Gus & William spent the night with Isaac Strong, so we decided it might be a good night for Eli Strong to come have a sleepover with Magnus -- a first for both of them. They had a big time.
Over breakfast, Chester, with wings raised projected on a small screen they folded together to create above his back, you watched the local news show that had you smirk at the replay of your pep rally performance thanks to a reporter who filmed it. Basic checks online showed that yearly since the first up-tick in talent for the team coverage for even just practices against the Color Guard rivals this would be a common occurrence, possibly also solidifying your place here.
Being put on the news weekly could only help to build an inescapable foundation for no one to be able to erase you a second time. However that same realization had a sting to the back end of it as the last time you had watched yourself on tv in a school related show your parents were there to turn and tap and tug to see your moment in front of the world. Sure that was just for a contest on gourd growing that you arguably shouldn’t have taken place in, even though you weren’t aware of your abilities quite yet, but it was something they were amply proud of and used for your dad to share his favorite story on the day you were born.
Knowing full well your mother’s condition those two little lines on the pregnancy test had them prepared to do whatever it took to have a healthy pregnancy even if it meant nightly, afternoon and morning prayers to the gods. Sheets of names had been arranged and his favorite tale was their return from a festival when your mother was in the early end of her final trimester and they found two ravens inside. Feet coated in ink from the ink pad for your mother’s love of decorating their envelopes with stamps to have marked out all but Pluto and Lagertha. The pair hopped excitedly to be caught in the act of answering the prayers of the parents-to-be from such great lines and named as themselves, Huginn and Muninn. Interference to show they would allow the young girl to grow into such a weighty name as the formidable Queen Lagertha and a celestial body named after the God of the Underworld.
“So small,” your father’s voice echoed in your ears as he held out before you his hand that was arguably larger than your face all the years you grew near him, “Able to fit inside of my palm. One day, my warrior Queen, and not even Ragnar Lothbrook himself will ever be worthy of your heart.” This was where you always giggled in his tight wrap around your body, “I am mightier than any bear or hound any man will face to steal you from me.”
He loved you. Almost as much as your mother who was a bit fanatic about the ninth planet in the solar system that she thought it a personal blessing to have seen the heart shaped birthmark on your belly to match the heart photographed on the surface of Pluto. A mark to match the heart shaped mark she had behind her right ear. Marks captured in the electronically backed scrapbooks they had hidden in case the hard copies had ever been lost. To never forget. And always with smiles they were captured inside images you were left with as the only proof they weren’t something your mind made up.
“I love you Mama, I love you Papa. One day, I’ll find you.” You whispered to the universe on your way out for the day as you often did when your morning thoughts had flowed to them. And to keep from crying you kept watching with hold of your bee in your palm more shows to keep from crying. A tool that for Fury in his daily check in on the drone he’d left behind had him smirk in the answer for how you appeared to have spat out a glowing snake at someone. The escaped child was an inventor who made her own tiny projector that unlike phones could be disguised and hidden on a person.
.
“And a big Happy Birthday to Rupert Ecclems, who turns 18 today, and you know what that means!” Over the intercom the woman behind the desk in the front office gave the announcement that in your first class of the day had the screens light up with a flash of faces of fellow students within the school.
To a count down numbers dropped to the moment when the student in question would bring out their Mate box and press the button on it. Every teacher would then watch to see if any students claimed to have been poked or tickled by their Mate. Unlike the girl from the week prior Rupert didn’t have a Mate from within the school, however faces of students who didn’t pass in flashes across class monitors to give a hint for those to try again with later.
“Birthday,” you muttered to yourself in Swedish counting down the days until your own big day after your first Yule season alone.
The thought was a tiny bit absurd that one day there might be a person within these halls who might react to a press of your destined Mate box. So many people could just have that. Grow up, go to school, find their Mate, get married, raise families and grow old together. People simply lived peaceful uneventful lives while you faced what you had. You couldn’t even be envious as it all seemed so absurd the thought of a simple quiet life now. Just impossible.
All the same as usual over lunch you listened to the guys and their hopes for who their perfect Mate would be and what traits they hoped they would possess while all you could hope for was a kind person who you could trust. Vague but true while the rest could be filled in later when you were more certain of who you were growing to be.
Already physically you were changing in subtle ways your bees picked up on in each bodily scan to see if there was any degeneration at all since that exposure to whatever the Soldier’s Tomb had unleashed upon you. No signs yet, just like there were no signs of the conditions your mother had been dying from of which one day you would have to find a Doctor willing to give you a blood test to see if you held the markers for them or any other hidden conditions that could pop up one day. More ways than one you had to accept you were a ticking time bomb on legs and one day face the aftermath of that.
.
Argument funnily enough against also being added, thanks to an argument in class, to the Debate Team was broken to a fire alarm that to your surprise was just something that schools do. Later on however you would be found to be a better fit for the Academic Decathlon with such an abundance of subjects you had studied on to draw from in prompts given for debates. So in a haze you walked amongst the students who were close to you out of the school to the designated spot outside a clear distance from the school. Then after a head count confirmation everyone was sent outside, like nothing happened, you all were sent inside to collect your things and move onto the next class.
All the same in the final class warning was called to have everyone traveling from the school on teams to gather and fill the buses. For you that meant changing into your costume and braiding up your hair before filing into your bus for the away game. Over an hour you would ride in a train of buses to carry the Football Team, Band and Color Guard, those at least in your bus who were glad to watch, as you did, a tv show projected by Chester large enough for them all to see.
Time for the Football Team and yours to warm up was taken on the side of the field you were set to play on as the crowd of those who drove to watch claimed the bleachers opposite those for the home team.
Ricky amongst the band members spotted his aunt who stole a few subtle glances your way as well as into the crowd for any other familiar faces. All the while not knowing of Coulsen and May online watching the live feed of the game and half time show. The latter who, to those who stole glances at the screen in front of her, began to spill all that she had learned on the history of their target’s chosen sport of interest. Nightly May had spent time researching to make this convincing that she was a closeted flag twirler enthusiast. And the more she watched the more it became obvious on how you could be so agile and skilled as a fighter like she had seen on that footage. All the same it was the best cover story she could think up for someone so skilled to use them and not go rusty over time.
All the same today’s half time show would be replayed the following morning while you helped to open the book shop and lay out the newest books that had been advertised for weeks now. When you got home however back to the grindstone you went to finish up your first project in one of your classes. Max, your Physics teacher who was from Norway had asked everyone to take a tool or piece of technology from their lineage as he usually began the year with to see how deeply his students would dig into their pasts. For yours you went with a new sort of take on a Viking classic.
Out of wood you had shaped a replica of a dragon head boat and actually taken thread and with a homemade loom the size of a watermelon you made a sheet of sails coated in two diagonal halves your parents’ crests. Within the sail however came the surprise as you had woven wires beaded with solar receptors to help and make the sail power the ship. True it was the size of a small drone and through the connectors lining the body of the ship to connect to the layer of propellers underneath the ship that would help to make it hover around a room.
Though on a larger actual boat sized scale they would be used to help counter storm currents and help get ships back to safety hopefully preventing capsizing and the sail could be used to power the ship in cases of engine damage or loss of fuel. Sure no one would really take your invention seriously but at least for the project with all you had cited for cases that could have been prevented or ways ships had been lost on cross ocean voyages countered by details of the tech you also kept vague enough to not have it stolen.
All you had to do was come up with a title page. The whole thing was typed and printed inside a protective cover, you just had to finish the details on the sail and then come up with a title, just like the sticky note on the title page and the one inside your planner and apartment door reminded you to do so.
.
‘fancy schmancy flying ship, something something title here’ the words had Max chuckling to himself as he reread the title and the sticky note referring to yourself in his translation a dingbat and to simply not forget to come up with a title. The presentation was brilliant and everyone watched the ship float around controlled by the Wii remote you picked up in a pawn shop for the task of piloting the rudder. For the students it was a cool new toy best tested inside of the storm current chamber that was used to test ocean effects by bursts of air to fake currents and choppy waves while sprinklers overhead poured on the item. In being tested it proved quite remarkable to see working even on a scale model.
Needless to say you got an A+ after he had shown the paper around to a few other curious teachers and to the Dean. And he got to chuckle again when he saw you accept the paper back and rest your face on your bag to hide your grumbles on forgetting the title page you apparently dreamed you had changed.
Distraction was understandable. And even if all you missed was the title the effort and dedication to each project they couldn’t argue that all to be done to retain the Role Model scholarship was being done. Every bit of extra credit was being taken and to that effect when you had stayed behind to apologize for the mistake you ended up hearing him say, “You know there are opportunities to study in University while completing your Junior year.” Needless to say you were excited to hear of a way to get your Bachelors Degree started already and in acceptance of a list of possible scholarship programs to apply for as well as Universities in New York for you even if you had to settle for a Community College to get the basics down you would take the hand up.
Another week seemed to blow by as you got to work on the drafts for the scholarship programs that were due by December. As promised Max stayed behind to help you go over ideas and help to direct you in a clearer path to what each prompt was aiming to get out of all the applicants. Some were a bit vague intentionally and the help was much appreciated and noted by other teachers who shared their happiness in seeing a student so eager to get themselves a leg up with whatever opportunities did arise through those willing to offer help.
Like an iceberg they only got the tip of what you faced. So they could only go off what they had experienced in their own beginnings and how they felt unprepared to face said challenges and had to ask for help from those they knew to help them get through. Those thoughts bolstered their thoughts of you while you had to do it all entirely on your own around the few times they could help you out somehow.
Another game away had you, unlike the time before, simply playing the show for the others while you tucked up against the wall to get in a nap. Nestled in the oversized hoodie you wore over your next costume still exhausted from the sleepless night before at the noisy bank robbery that had occurred down the block from your house. Police had lit up your block all night and even armed officers went building by building in a sweep to find the culprit that had you under the pitying stare of the duo sent to search your place clearly free of any criminals. All the same once the bus parked you woke up a bit recharged. You ate a breakfast bar and got to warming up then settled into your seat with another snack to keep your energy up.
Another clear game without signs of shadows for your clearly exhausted self had Mariah in the stands curious enough to check online to see if there were any notable events near your place to keep you up at night. The robbery that popped up had her sigh and wonder if there was a way to get you into a better place one day. What time you had on the ride back instead of being filled with another nap or tv you listened to the Coach who said that rehearsals were kicking up as you were to go against your rivals soon to get the routines on point, meaning it would be five practices a week over the usual three.
.
Some juggling was to be done with your shifts to match the new five rehearsals a week that had you pick up the difference on the weekends to keep the same figures on your paychecks each week. The Marching Band even had been kicking up their own late days at school, so much so at lunch Ricky said, “Saturday, movie night, my place,” the guys excitedly agreed around the lunch table and he made a point to ask you as you lowered your drink from a sip. “Can you come Pluto?”
When your eyes met you lowered your drink asking, “You want me to come?”
“Yes, we were thinking rewatch of Princess Bride since in our mythology class they are making us watch Star Wars instead of it for our Hero’s Journey lessons.”
“Oh, I mean, sure, I’ve never seen it before though.” That admission dropped their jaws, and you said, “I’ve seen the fourth Star Wars film,” assuming that was where the shock came from.
“You’ve never seen Princess Bride?” the twins asked together and you shook your head.
“No, it’s on my list of classics to watch. I got distracted oddly enough catching up on the Carebear films I didn’t finish before I was taken to Russia.”
“We are so watching it then! I’ll get mom to get the good popcorn and we can add another film too if we plan it early enough!” Talk of which film to choose from filled the rest of the lunch with several options the guys would choose from for the best option and save the rest for later.
…
Outside the city you came to a stop peering up at a two story yellow stone picture perfect home your friend lived in. A hint of Greek pillars outside the front entrance had you wonder what it looked like beyond those etched milky glass doors. Timidly you pressed the doorbell and waited to be let in, noise through the doors had you distracted enough to flinch yourself right into the pillar on your left at the sound of someone behind you.
“Sorry,” Mariah apologized in a weak chuckle making sure your wide eyed self could see her hands at the bottom of the brown paper bag she was holding.
Shaking your head you lifted a hand to brush your hair out of your face to lay over your back showing more of your maroon sweater. The warm layer of quality wool hung down over the top of your black jeans and matched the maroon wedges secured by straps over the top of your feet. “Just, sirens, most of the night. Then there was this huge thud on the roof.” You shook your head again in her trot up to your side at hearing a voice come closer to your side.
“What happened on the roof?” she asked and you shrugged.
“Something to do with the helicopter circling the block I would guess.” You replied then grinned at Ricky’s mom who let you both inside where Mariah took off her shoes and set them beside yours to answer her expectation for guests to do so.
Inside you were led through the modern styled home that you had to hold back from sharing your disinterest in how empty it felt even with the lived in touches the family gave it. Right in the center of the lined cushions on the floor you were settled with ample snacks to choose from as the guys readied the film and named the one to play after it. Each of them smiled with glee at being here for your first time to watch the masterpiece of a film they all loved.
Partly focused on the film to enjoy it you couldn’t help but notice the interactions of the parents and aunt to the boy who invited you here. Nothing like your family. Subtle comments and reactions from Ricky to his parents and how he tried to skew the evening in front of his friends had you feel he tried to play off that they were a bit more personal space friendly than they put off. True relationships he tried to hide for some reason you couldn’t understand why when that time with your parents was all you could ever wish for back again even just one more time.
As the only girl here however you tried to not take it personally when it was named that you were the only one not sleeping over, if even by accident much to Ricky’s dismay. A shake of your head however calmed him a tiny bit at least to hear that you had a shift to pick up in the morning and wouldn’t be able to stay over anyways.
“So, next time, you should let her stay over.” Mariah found time to get her sister inside the kitchen out of earshot from the kids in the other room. There she said softly to her sister.
A sigh was her first response. “You know why we said no.” The sister replied making Mariah sigh back at her.
“She lives alone, you can put her downstairs in the pull down in the office.” That had the husband chime in.
“I have sensitive documents in my office.”
“She’s not going to rob you, what about the pull out couch?” Mariah suggested.
“We are not having a co-ed sleep over.” The mom replied firmly making Mariah scoff.
“She’s 14, I’ll come over too if you’re so worried, stay in the same room with her.” Mariah tried to offer.
That had Ricky who had snuck into the kitchen say, “Honestly mom, we’re just friends. She doesn’t even talk about dating let alone boys. Even if we had she’s way out of my league.” That had his parents ready to say something and he said, “Hey, she built a miniature boat that can fly as a model for a system that could help boats out of storms to not roll over. She is already looking at colleges and she pays taxes! If someone hadn’t taken her and stolen her parents away she could have been the next Howard Stark child braniac and all that. I barely have a guess at what my major would be. She’s a great friend, you always say to make great friends.”
Mariah said, “See,” making Ricky look up at her curiously.
“You’re being weird again.” he said making his aunt shake her head.
“I am not. I just think it’s not fair. All I’m saying.” Mariah said.
“She was excited to be invited along, now she finds out she’s not welcome for the full thing. Not PC either, gender discrimination,” Ricky said giving his parents a pointed stare on his way to fetch the tray of brownies to bring out to share before the next film was put on. When he rejoined the guys he saw you excused yourself to the bathroom in his absence and hastily he whispered to them that they had to find one of their parents who would let you stay over too to be fair.
All the same he was the last one to see you at the door and flinched to draw you into a hug to say softly, “Next time, we swear.”
With a grin you replied, “Don’t you worry about it. I start work at 11. Enjoy your night. I’ve heard I talk in my sleep, keep you up all night.” You said making him chuckle. All he could do next was to watch you turn to head out the front door and down the steps for a long walk home alone as he went inside trying to not feel so terrible about the whole thing.
You were pleased at least to not have stayed there, as if the cushion wasn’t bad enough whatever bed or couch you would be offered would not be more comfortable than the ground by your guess and the cramp in your back at the position you had to keep while you stayed there. If that wasn’t bad enough there was the crawl of your skin in reaction to the lavender powder used to freshen up the rug the cushions were settled upon was slow to go away. His mom had said they had taken away the bulk of their lavender products but apparently vacuuming the rug wasn’t high on the priority list.
Unlike other exposures like from the candle shop or perfume this wasn’t in your lungs, just topical that some of your honey compound cream you had made could reverse with ease. Without the ability to head to the Doctor since no insurance would cover you aside from the most basic state funded care thanks to your family history of illnesses you had to come up with a way to counter your allergies to such common foods and scents. So far all you could figure out was a topical honey based cream you and your bees had come up with to pair with an extremely painful injectable serum you carried with you that would halt the reaction your body could reverse on its own soon enough thanks to your natural healing.
Lost to thought all the way to the subway you walked alone in the dark wondering about what film to watch until your cream would set in and you could try to get some sleep. Two nights off until you were back to practice was all you had. This home game might as well not be happening and all week you kept a calm head as the guys shared on their tries to have more group outings. So much so that together after school one day you all stopped in at the local diner for a meal then scattered to head home when their parents called to see when they could be picked up after practice.
*
“How does he look?” Mariah asked Ward. He was seated in the hall outside of Alexander Pierce’s room watching an xray being taken after the latest round of injections and IV bags from the Medical Staff’s chosen treatments.
Ward sighed and said, pointing to the vials of shriveling thorns on a table against the glass wall of Pierce’s room, “They found thorns lining the inside of his lungs that apparently had been hindering the effect of the drugs.”
Mariah sighed, “So he really made them mad,” crossing her arms making Ward look up at her.
“It was personal then…” Not as a question, but seeing the clues in front of his face lining up he continued to speak aloud, “He hit a nerve with someone. Crossed paths with them again and they tried to kill him.” Mariah scoffed, “Clearly they tried to kill him.”
Mariah said, “They attacked him physically, professionally, financially and emotionally. Went after his entire life. If they wanted him dead they didn’t have to leave him a bloody mess in our garage, they could have left him a broken mess where they found him. They left him alive, to suffer. If you think he doesn’t know who did this you’re a bigger idiot than I took you for.” She said. That made him scoff and shift in his seat when that sank in. Further proof being in recalling how harshly Pierce scattered the teams to keep them busy and off searching for clues on who was behind this.
Skye wasn’t even able to find anything on where Pierce had been on the tracker on his vehicle or phone records that had been wiped including the traffic cameras to show where he had come from. No matter Ward’s own efforts to infiltrate SHIELD he did know that if a man like Pierce was being terrified into silence Ward certainly wouldn’t play the idiot and try to keep chasing this shadow from the former’s past.
All the same he watched the blue transfusion drain into Pierce’s body. Determined to stay as long as he could he waited to be assigned his next case. Not paying much mind to the sound of Mariah sharing the newly arrived May that she was being sent off to another country in a few hours. May set on her own mission wouldn’t be able to pick up the next slot to watch the child they all shadowed, and so Coulsen slipped himself into the conversation in code that he had plans this Friday himself to claim the place watching the mystery teen they had been growing attached to even from afar.
*
The 5th week of school came to an end with the 3rd game of the season, the first at home game. With the at home advantage there was a larger crowd and for you a closer reach to the food court that didn’t charge you more since you were not part of that school’s student body to keep from getting hungry throughout the game. Not to mention an easier walk home so that you could get back to work on a new school paper that was due on Monday.
Talk during the game only had your thoughts on the big rivalry game and beyond that the Halloween performance that you would need a costume. Ideas swirled and off the page you sat at home holding the metal mask your bees had printed up for you. All it needed was paint, the matte silver yellow jacket mask covering all but your eyes would be a fun costume to play off of and make your own costume to join the guys at the party Greg and the twins’ family was throwing for the band and Color Guard.
.
Ridge town, your school’s rivals wore green and silver. Across the field you finally stood from their team in view of the largest crowd yet even for an away game that everyone seemed to travel the distance to be there in person for this.
“Oh this is too good,” May muttered to herself and Coulsen, who was listening over the com she had on her as he watched online. Currently he was tasked in helping Fury search for Tony Stark who had gone missing in the Middle East on a trip to speak to his latest clients. And loudly to the press Obadiah Stane had been stating that the future of Stark Industries with or without the face of the company, prodigal boy genius Stark, was unshakable. Silence had brought up doubt and with that came opportunity.
Spirit Week would kick off next Monday, with it would come new expected outfits and tasks on the team that would require you to get at least a sliver more sleep than you had been getting. Locked in a struggle not to yawn during the moment of silence taken collectively in hope that Stark would soon be found you stood waiting for the signal to ready the introductory motions when the rival players would line up for the first hike of the football. Lower crime groups all week had been setting off your crime radar and keeping you up. Auditions for tech savvy and muscle bound lower crime groups were rippling into headlines as if to signal attention of the big rivals to Stark Industries to increase their own company weapons divisions. This game would be a victory at least, and you had a chance to nap on the ride home, a chance easily ruined when the ferry the buses were parked on to cross the river back to the city in a roundabout way to skip traffic stopped working.
Right in the middle of the river the ferry broke into an upheaval of anything close to peace and passengers came close to diving off the deck to swim ashore due to impatience. Something came loose in the engine and another part had cracked clean through to make a major overhaul of a job was what you overheard from the cabin crew when you snuck closer to the upper deck. The Captain did his best to hail for help but the radio was filled with chatter from other ships in a dockyard that had been let loose. Fetching rich people’s floating house boats and yachts was more important it seemed. Deeply he sighed then flinched to the sound of your feet meeting with the support plank inside the engine compartment.
“Hey! Out of there! Now!” The man turned arguing, having seen a colorful uniform he recognized as one of the teens he took to be fulfilling some kind of dare.
A stretch of a metal sound blended with a tear of something else. By the time he made it to the hatch he could see you crouched down securing a metal brace from your stash of supplies in a roll of tools laid at your side. Sparks next had his eyes instinctually shut when you gripped a hedgehog shaped tool you made for on the spot welding jobs. The crack was patched and by the time he looked again he felt his body lurch to help secure the end of the pinion like bar that had come loose. A spare pin pressed to your left palm was swiveled once he held the rod in the proper place so you could jam the pin in the hole to anchor it there. Grinding metal and the assumed falling Captain had the work crew come back to share in watching you remove the metal spring braces and offer hands to bring you out of the home. “Practically live on ferries in Sweden,” you fibbed out an excuse that had the men share a silent look of contemplation before they dared to give the engine a try. The engine turned over and your now scrubbed but still stained grey handed self headed back to the bus to be counted amongst your teammates the Coach was calling for.
Ferry fixed the hassle of being late was not over as the road into the city was shut down and parents had to be contacted to retrieve their children from school after you all were guided like little ducks through a maze of stops in the subway. Even you had to get back to school and weren’t allowed to just go home on your own seeing as one of the parental guardians for the three teams traveling didn’t accept just your word alone you were emancipated. Just one look your way in sheer surprise you were still here had the Coach ask you why you hadn’t gone home only making you point an accusing finger at said parent that made the Coach huff then approve your freedom to leave. Your back in a walk off school grounds stirred up surprise indeed from that same parent who tried and was stopped from storming after yourself by the Coach who shared you were as good as an orphan and had legal say over yourself. Bh the time you got home all the time you had left went to eating and tidying up before you had to head off to work.
Two days later, still without any sleep over your crime radio came a call that an armed robbery began. Six parked armored vehicles in front of their targeted building not far from your apartment would soon be broadcast on the news by the fuss the men that fled them were kicking up. Distant screams now found you on the absolute wrong night and off the side table your newly dry bee mask was raised to coat your face.
Back in braids down the sides and top of your head your curls were secured over the straps for your mask to add extra protection from any slips. The least revealing clothes you had from your closet were chosen for this task to go with your self made armor. Kevlar lined modified hockey pads down your legs and elbows matched the vest you added with the numerous hidden holsters to draw from under your outer layers. A ridiculously yellow denim jacket was eased on over your pale golden high necked sweater and grey washed jeans that hung over the tops of your black boots. Fingerless gloves with Kevlar lined knuckles along with the completed armor came a plethora of metal batons and for emergencies metal grappling braces and wasp shaped throwing knives.
To help your bees darkened the street by interfering with the power on your street long enough to cover your leap out your window. Bold and bright for the first time you openly ignited your hair and eyes ready for the hunt. Crime didn’t pay, and criminals one by one would soon take heed that there was a tiny yellow glowing baddie here to keep them in line. You should be picking out a dress for the upcoming dance. And yet all the same, video footage of a tiny little woman who entered the building without a care turned everyone’s head by the sound of crunching glass underneath her boots.
“And who the hell are you?!” Was barked at you from the head of the group.
“My name is Misique, and you were just leaving.” You replied without accent or flinch of tone to help cloud your identity even more. Chuckles rippled through the armed men who merely raised their laser scope modified riffles and hand guns to your head.
Glittering mist that very moment clouded the backs and palms of both your hands. Before they could so much as crack a joke their eyes shot wildly about the place when an explosion sounded through the floor beneath their feet. Screams filled the air of people formerly held hostage now set free. Out of the ceiling and walls the innocent staff and people inside the building were tangled in giant vines carried out to freedom. Just leaving the armed men, who in the draw of your batons fell in bloody heaps and remained so as you walked out of the building onto the street past the scared people. Every step you took stole with it the strength of the protective vines that withered to glittering dust now gathering up to waft after your mysterious self.
*
“OH!” Agents in SHIELD exclaimed. For the fourth time watching the footage play back of the botched robbery and the two crimes halted afterwards.
Including the favored one where this ‘Misique’ had grabbed a speeding car fleeing the police and hurled it with one hand miles away through the air off a dock to keep the radioed explosives inside of it they hoped to drive into the tunnels. The explosion took out a minor stretch of an empty wooden dock that would have the fishermen who docked there have to relocate temporarily, a much more tolerable outcome than the one they expected.
People died and explosive vines that would wither away afterwards. Little proof of left beside scattered bits of footage and chains of code out of glyphs used to cover her escape had given once named ‘The Purge’ a face and voice for them to target instead of just some faceless opponent. Still no named reasoning beyond these crimes outside the obvious assumption of targeting bad guys, just a rising body count.
“How the hell do you expect me to believe some tiny woman took out fourteen men, with guns, and hurl a Hummer twelve miles with one hand?!” One man exclaimed.
The doubt in his voice made Agent May turn to face him and say, “I’m a tiny Asian woman and I could kill everyone in this room, I know you can believe that.”
Another man scoffed and replied, “Ya, but that’s not you.” He said then fell silent to her brow ticking up.
They had a full, albeit blurry, composite, voice and name now. All for the group Fury had linked up to wonder on their own and then together when it was safe to do so on how this equally as tiny glowing terror had met their protected Pluto Pear. Though now they knew who was shadowing Pear they felt a bit more secure on what said shadow was capable to keep their young charge safe when they couldn’t be reached aside from her own capabilities of course.
I'm terrified of sharks, alligators, and crocodiles. 🥲 they are monsters that haunt my dreams. I cant swim in a pool for too long because I'll think about being circled and eaten by sharks.
I'm a Leo ☀️ Virgo 🌙 and Virgo ⬆️
I love ball room dancing. I want nothing more than to waltz with a fine gentleman or dance the polka all night.
🐈⬛: top 3 fav books— (A GREAT QUESTION, I WANNA TALK ABOUT BOOKS MORE OFTEN)
The Shining by Stephen King. This book FUCKED me up 2 days to Sunday. I would binge read it all night until the sun came up because I was too afraid of the dark 😹 my sister gave me the board game version of it for my 21st bday this year! Anyway, I love this book. Scared the shit out of me.
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. Oscar Wilde is notorious for his phrasing and this book tells you why. Its just so eloquent and descriptive. It takes you away to high society London, allows you to smell the flowers of the gardens, hear the bustling carriages on the streets. Wilde has a style of writing that I deeply admire and adore. I was Dorian Gray for Halloween last year!
1984 by George Orwell. This book fucked me up. I loved the complexity of it all. I was terrified of how many parallels I was seeing between the book and the world today. It gave me the most jarring anxiety but also soothed me with a love story, and that I was not expecting. I love it. It reminds me of garlic hummus. I would lay on the couch and eat chips and hummus while reading it 😹
Thanks for sending this in, Rae-Rae 💖🥰🌸 I love you
🌸 least 3 favorite Seb/Cevans characters as in not the actual characters but the ones with traits that in real life would make you be really wary of them if you get what I mean😅 As example as much as I love Mickey Henry...that would be a disaster waiting to happen
Oo! Alright!
🌸: Least fav Seb characters
Lee Bodecker— I love this man with all my heart, but he is the physical embodiment of a red flag.
Lance Tucker— I would want to beat the shit out of him if I ever saw him irl.
Charles Blackwood— he's hot, but like. No.
And now for Chris characters!
Mr. Freezy/Robert Pronge— dude's a serial killer. Need I say more??
Ransom Drysdale— again, a murderer. Cute, but still.
Colin Shea— young dudes bother me. Ya gotta be at least 35 to ride this caboose, baby.
For a would you rather... would you rather dom ransom drysdale or lance tucker?? Cuz both def need to be dommed.
Well damn.
First off, I agree, they both desperately need to be dommed.
Secondly, why did you come for me like this? This is such a tough decision 😹
I'm going to choose Zeus (Lance), himself. The noises he'd make, the feeling to breaking down an Olympian into a dumb little sub who just wants to feel good and be good— OOO Mommy loves it 😈
